


Put Your Head On My Shoulder

by Auggusst



Series: The Soldier And The Scientist [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 50s Music, Angst, Anniversary, Dancing, Dinner, Dinner Date, First Anniversary, Fluff, M/M, Manipulative Nick Fury, Old music - Freeform, Paul Anka - Freeform, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Sweet, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Worry, and it's really just me projecting lolllllllllllll, god i wish that were me, idk he's got issues lmao, like oh my god, like super duper romantic, marked mature for tony's self hatred thoughts, not in a bad way, record player, romantic, romantic dinner, self hatred, swoonworthy, thats what fics are for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: Thanks to Fury, Steve shows up late to his and Tony's first anniversary dinner as a couple. Tony, of course, finds a way to blame it on himself. Luckily, all of his fears and negative thoughts are smoothed away thanks to Steve's love. However, Tony's got him beat in the gift department.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: The Soldier And The Scientist [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/468745
Comments: 24
Kudos: 191





	Put Your Head On My Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> bro okay this might be on my top 10 list now.  
> A. I wrote this in ONE DAY  
> and B. It's??? so???? I cried a little writing this one. Go me. 
> 
> I think I may be back to my regular writing flow aka popping off like firecrackers lol
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!! Please listen to the song mentioned in this fic while reading~ https://youtu.be/kvazBqAlx58 I love that song.

The pasta was cold already, even though he’d covered the plates so they’d stay warm. The champagne was getting warm too; the ice bath the bottle sat in almost completely melted. Even some of the damn candles he bought specifically for tonight were starting to burn low, bathing the table in a melancholy light.

He told himself it wouldn’t be much longer. After all, Steve had texted him half an hour ago saying so. Of course if it were up to Tony, Steve wouldn’t have been gone in the first place. He had Fury to blame for that. He had Fury to blame for a lot of things, really, but right now, this took precedence. He’d asked for Steve and Natasha’s help on a, quote, “short mission,” promised it wouldn’t take more than a few hours.

Well. Tony thought he should just take his damn “short mission” and shove it up his ass. Tony had argued that someone else should go, but the man had insisted on Steve’s specific skill set, and Steve, too kind for his own good, didn’t protest. He was sure he could get the work done quick and be home in time for dinner. That evidently wasn’t the case. Tony was pretty mad about it, if he were honest with himself.

Fury had a habit of intruding on his life for the past few years, and it didn’t seem that was changing anytime soon. Wasn’t he legally dead right now anyway? Then why was he pulling a stunt like this? Didn’t he have enough lackeys to get the job done? What right did he have to order them around? Especially today of all days. Tony knew he should have blocked any incoming calls today. He lamented the fact that he didn’t.

It was their anniversary today. Their _first_ anniversary, specifically.

It was hard to believe an entire year had passed since they confessed their feelings, since Steve approached him in the kitchen that night and had given him the ultimate gift. He never could’ve foreseen any of this, any of what they had together, the way they grew to know each other, but he was damn glad to have it. They’d become closer than he ever could have anticipated, when they met that day in Germany. Steve became an integral part of his life, and Tony a part of his.

Tony wanted to do something personal, a little special today to mark the occasion. He’d been looking forward to it a while, went over his plans again and again to make sure they were perfect. He’d spent hours in the kitchen today preparing their meal, cleared his schedule entirely. He planned on dinner, dessert, and despite the playful suggestions of his teammates, something a little more wholesome than sexual. He’d been a little nervous about it, initially. Every day he still woke up thinking that Steve would have enough of him, would want to call it quits, but that hadn’t happened yet.

He hoped it never would.

Tony wanted to show Steve how much he loved him, how thankful he was that they were still together. There weren’t many people who could stand to be around him, especially so intimately, for so long. Excepting Pepper, his longest relationship in the past was about 6 months. Normally people got sick of him after a few weeks. Despite all of the drama, and their differences, Steve was still here.

It took a lot of convincing the blond to let Tony handle everything for their anniversary actually, because Steve insisted he wanted to plan their evening, but Tony eventually won the argument. Thank god he had, because if Steve had been in charge, then there would be _nothing_ to look forward to right now, not even the uneaten food sitting in front of him.

He tried not to be upset. He knew a thing or two about being busy, about meetings or missions running longer than they should. He’d been late to plans more times than he could count, but for the most part, they were just on normal days, so it didn’t really matter. Today, though...Today was special. He couldn’t be blamed for the sinking feeling in his stomach, for the way his eyes were starting to get misty.

The scientist heaved a sigh, rested his chin in the palm of his hand, and stared at the empty seat across from him.

He got another text. [Clean up finally finished, be there in 10. I promise.] 

It wasn’t Steve’s fault, he reminded himself. He was sure the blond wanted to be here just as much as Tony wanted him here, right? If he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t have given him updates, wouldn’t have promised he would make it. He would’ve told Tony to his face that he didn’t want any of this, that he wanted to break up. He would have ended it a long time ago, maybe let the brunet down gently, or maybe laughed in his face, cut him with harsh words like when they met. He wouldn’t have kept things up for the sake of keeping them up, wouldn’t have fooled Tony like that.

But maybe he _did_ fool Tony. Maybe Steve didn’t want to hurt him, even though he didn’t want him anymore. Maybe he felt trapped in their relationship, didn’t want to end it because it would put their friendship in jeopardy, would interfere with their work as Avengers if Tony reacted badly, if he had his heart broken. Maybe he, and the others, just tolerated Tony because he had to, because there weren’t any other options. Maybe it was propriety, desperation, that made them keep treating him nicely, that made them pat him on the back after a good mission or give him a smile whenever he made something new to make their jobs easier. Maybe they were thinking horrible things about him, _talking_ about him when he wasn’t there, saying how horrible and selfish and dense he was, that he couldn’t even see that everyone hated him, that they couldn’t actually stand being around him. Maybe—maybe—

 _‘Stop it,’_ he told himself when his eyes finally welled up with tears. _‘You’re being stupid.’_

But what if he wasn’t? What if Steve really was just with him because it was convenient, because it meant better communication, easier access, more supplies for the team? What’s if Tony really was just a vending machine, for love, for _sex_ , for money, like he used to believe, like he was told, when he was young and stupid? What’s if that’s all anyone saw him as? What’s if he made this big fancy dinner, got all dressed up just to be disappointed by his life _again_?

The tears started falling before he could stop them. He brushed them away angrily on the cuffs of his sleeves. He hated crying, yet he seemed to do it so often. If his father were still alive, he would’ve yelled at him for it.

Tony took a deep breath, loosened his tie and looked over the table again. Maybe he should just put it away, forget the whole thing. Maybe Steve didn’t want any of this in the first place. Maybe he’d _hate_ it, think it was stupid or wasn’t good enough, just like Tony. 

“That’s it,” he muttered to himself, scooting his chair back. He’d leave the meal here—Steve would find it, if he cared enough, and he’d find Tony where he usually was: in his workshop.

He didn’t get that far though. When he stood up, he heard the elevator door slide open, and the _clang_ of the shield being propped up on the floor against the wall. The brunet hardly had time to wipe his tears completely before he was greeted with the sight of Steve in the doorway, hair disheveled from tugging his helmet off, still in uniform, and…and a massive bouquet of roses in his hand.

Tony felt his heart tumble out of his chest and roll onto the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said immediately, his face a mixture of panicked, distressed and nervous. “I’m—oh.”

He caught sight of the elaborately set table, the covered entrées and the baskets of fresh bread and salad, the bottle of champagne, and the _candles_. It was beautiful but intimate, and smelled really good, and Steve could tell just how much work Tony had put into it, and that made him feel that much worse for being late. Tony’s expression, the tear tracks on his face that Steve could see even at this distance really pushed it all over the top.

“Oh Tony,” he breathed. “I tried to get away, I really did, I’m—they needed me and I couldn’t just drop it all on the spot,” Steve said, crossing the room in seconds. “I’m sorry.”

Tony averted his gaze, tried to smile. “It’s fine,” he said instinctively, even though it felt like his lungs were being squeezed by invisible hands. “I know, I get it, I—“

“It’s not fine,” the blond insisted, pulling Tony close by the elbow. The brunet resisted at first, but then melted against him. Steve held him tightly, pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m so, so sorry. I never would’ve said yes if I knew how late I’d be.”

“I…I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” Tony admitted, voice muffled from where his face was pressed against Steve’s chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to quell the lump that was forming in his throat.

“You’re not sick of me, are you?” He tried to frame it as a joke, didn’t want the blond to know just how deeply it had affected him, but wasn’t sure how effective it was. Steve had a habit of seeing right through him.

“Of course I’m not sick of you. God, I could never be sick of you,” Steve replied immediately, sensing his trepidation. “Today is so important to me. _You’re_ important to me.” 

Tony tried to take his words to heart. Steve was being sincere, he knew, but it was hard to get over that voice in his brain, telling him otherwise. He pushed it down, focused on the task at hand, on diverting his negative feelings. “I’m gonna kick Fury’s ass,” he said.

“Get in line,” Steve replied, and let out a sharp exhale.

He really _was_ upset now. The mission kept dragging on and on, despite the promise of it being short and sweet, and he couldn’t seem to get away no matter how much he wanted to. Now as a result he was almost a whole hour late for their dinner, which Tony had obviously put a lot of work into. The food was definitely cold by now. More importantly, Tony seemed really upset, even though he was trying to hide it.

“I’m sorry for ruining today,” the soldier said softly, gently stroking his boyfriend’s back.

“No,” Tony replied, taking a deep breath and pulling back a little. “You didn’t know. It’s okay, really. I’m just being dramatic, as usual.” He wiped his tears, tried to laugh.

“It’s not dramatic. Honestly I’m surprised you didn’t throw your plate at me when I walked in the door. I would’ve deserved it.”

“Well I could still throw something at you if you want,” Tony replied, managing a smile.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Steve admitted, smiled back. He held up the bouquet of flowers he’d bought, offered them to the brunet. “You deserve a lot more than this, but it’s a start, I hope?”

Tony took the flowers from him, held them gingerly and inspected them. They were a lovely mixture of red and yellow roses—his signature colors. There was a little card sticking out between flowers, labeled ‘ _For_ _My Tony.’_

 _My Tony_. That made the brunet’s heart swell. “They’re beautiful,” he said.

“And so are you,” Steve replied, gently brushing his fingers against Tony’s elbow. “And so is the table. You did all of this?” he asked, looking around the room.

Tony held the flowers a little tighter against him, raised his head, slipping back into his confidence. “Despite contrary belief, I’m not entirely helpless at event planning. I did get lessons on etiquette as a kid too, as all spoiled little rich boys do.”

“I’m sure you excelled at that,” Steve replied, shaking his head.

“Depends. The information was absorbed pretty quick, but my actual behavior? Atrocious, of course,” Tony explained. He set the flowers on the credenza momentarily, crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, leaned up to give him a kiss.

Steve leaned down into it as if pulled by gravity, his eyes fluttering closed. He was relieved, honestly, that Tony didn’t seem to be mad at him. He was worried about it the whole way home, the whole duration of the mission actually, and although Tony seemed better now, he didn’t think the subject was so easily forgotten. Though Tony’s grip on him was firm, welcoming, Steve still couldn’t forget the tears he saw on the brunet’s face, the salt he tasted on his lips from them now, mixed with the champagne he’d been sipping on before Steve arrived. He had a _lot_ to make up for.

Steve brought a hand up, cradled the back of Tony’s head and kissed back sweeter, slower, trying to convey his apology.

When Tony drew back, he pulled his hands back, tugged on Steve’s belt buckle. “You gonna go get changed, soldier? I’ll heat up the food and put the flowers in a vase.”

“You really don’t mind waiting?” Steve asked, eyes flickering between Tony and the table. He didn’t want to make Tony wait any longer. He was probably starving at this point.

“I don’t mind,” Tony replied, taking in the concern on Steve’s face.

That felt nice. It soothed him that much more, seeing that Steve was distraught too. Maybe Tony’s delusions earlier, his intrusive thoughts, really were just that: silly little thoughts his brain came up with, designed to hurt him and nothing more. Maybe he really was lucky enough to have had Steve’s love this last year, and to continue having it.

He wrinkled his nose though, catching the smell of rubble, gunpowder and sweat, now that his brain was a little less preoccupied. “Besides, you kind of smell.”

“Ouch. Blame Fury, not me,” the blond replied, though he couldn’t deny it. He came away a lot cleaner than most missions, and his suit wasn’t even scratched up, but hard work would always be hard work. He cursed himself for _agreeing_ to hard work on this particular day again.

“Oh trust me, I do,” Tony said, and patted the star on Steve’s chest lovingly before stepping away. He gestured for Steve to get moving.

“10 minutes tops,” Steve promised as he headed for the bedroom, his steps swift and sure.

“10 minutes!” Tony agreed, scooping his flowers off of the counter again and heading to the kitchen to find a vase for them. 

Steve stripped, washed up and got dressed in record time, which was a skill he picked up in basic training. He honestly had it down to a science at this point, after so many mornings being shouted awake by the drill instructor, being given mere minutes to dress and make his bed, lest he be punished with extra sets of push-ups. He was honestly glad those days were over. The skills he learned as a grunt did come in handy though. His hair was still a little wet as he straightened his bowtie, and he brushed it to the best of his ability. Steve hoped Tony wouldn’t hold it against him.

Honestly, he felt kind of like a disaster at the moment. Really he shouldn’t have felt any different than every other night they ate together, but it was the knowledge of their milestone, the knowledge that they’d spent an entire year together as a couple, that took away some of his ease and replaced it with the sensation of butterflies.

After putting on a little cologne, he reached in his shirt drawer, slipped his hand under the pile of shirts in the left hand corner, picked up the little jewelry box he’d stashed there a few weeks ago. He debated giving Tony his present now, but thought it’d be better to wait until after dinner.

“Later,” Steve told himself in the mirror, nodded for good measure. He put the box in the pocket of his suit.

He took a preparatory breath, and headed back out to Tony, tried to ignore the nervousness building inside him, like it had before their first date. Really. There was no reason to be nervous. He’d spent every day at Tony’s side, had gone on plenty of dates with him, _slept_ with him. He knew Tony loved him, knew he was happy with him, despite their bad days. He knew none of this should have been scary.

He told himself to settle down.

The smell of pasta was strong and tantalizing, even from a distance. Tony had pulled out the _good_ Bolognese recipe, evidently. And he had _baked_ bread too, when Steve knew that Tony wasn’t a fan of baking. When Steve caught sight of the table, his mouth watered a little. He was pretty hungry. On closer look than when he came in the door, it really looked amazing.

Jesus, how much time had the brunet really spent on this meal today? Steve imagined him working diligently, focused, determined, working for hours, maybe making a few mistakes along the way like he had a habit of doing in the kitchen, putting it all together and taking care cleaning up, getting dressed, all for Steve. His heart swelled at the thought, at all the effort of it. Not many people were willing to do so much for him.

Tony was pouring them drinks when Steve made his appearance, and he smiled softly. “You clean up nice,” he commented, but Steve could hear the little waver in his voice. Was he nervous too, or was he still upset?

“Thanks,” Steve replied, offering him a smile. He hoped it was enough.

Tony handed him his glass, reached up to adjust the blond’s still-drying bangs. “Sit down, before your food gets cold again. I already fixed up your plate.”

Steve did as told. He took his seat, didn’t try to hide his relief. “You didn’t have to fix my plate for me,” he said as he picked up his fork. “I could’ve done it myself.”

“I wanted to,” Tony replied with a shrug. His leg was fidgeting under the table and he hoped it wasn’t noticeable. He’d regained control of his face, but still heard that little voice in the back of his mind, feeding him little lies. Tony swallowed some champagne to drown it out.

“Be quiet and dig in,” he ordered, and scooped himself a forkful of pasta before he could become too self critical.

As the meal went on, he managed to relax again, at least a little. Steve complimented the food four separate times, meant it every time, and ate three platefuls to prove it. He apologized for his tardiness too, leaned forward to hold Tony’s hand between dinner and dessert. He told the brunet the details of the mission, and they both had some choice words for Fury at the moment, took the rare opportunity to talk shit about him without anyone else hearing(they didn’t really mind Fury, or had reason to make fun often, but on occasion, his requests could be inconvenient, like today.)

Tony talked about his kitchen adventures, mentioned the special ingredients he’d added. He talked about the project he was working on, the adjustments he wanted to make to his latest suit. He started to tell a story from his childhood too, but remembered that particular one always left him in a sour mood, so he cut it off, changed the subject. Steve made up for it with one of his own.

When they had finished the bottle of champagne and their plates were empty, Steve’s eyes were on Tony, vividly blue despite the low candlelight, and affectionate. The candles were really close to burning out now, a testament to how long they’d sat there. It was time to move, especially because the blond’s gaze was so hypnotic, enrapturing as always, and Tony didn’t want to get stuck in its tractor beam quite yet.

The brunet laughed a little, dropped his gaze to the table. “I should get this cleaned up,” he sighed.

“Leave it,” Steve replied. “I’ll take care of it later. You’ve done enough today,” he said.

Tony shook his head. “Come on, it isn’t a big deal,” he said, moving to stand.

Steve stood too though, crossed the short distance between them before Tony could lift his plate from the table. He took one of Tony’s hands into his own.

“I’m serious,” the soldier said. He paused a second, stroked the palm of his boyfriend’s hand with his thumb. “I’ll do it. Besides, I think it’s time…” he fished in his pocket with his free hand for a second, pulled out the small black jewelry box. “Time for your present.”

Steve held up his gift, offered it to Tony with a hopeful smile.

Tony blinked at the little box, and felt his heart jump. He smiled, a real smile, and took the box from Steve’s hands. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said softly.

 _‘You’re enough of a gift,’_ he thought, and it was true. Every kiss, every warm gaze from Steve was a present in itself.

“Of course I did,” Steve replied, his face turning a little more serious. “I…I just want you to know how much you mean to me, really. Sometimes I still can’t believe we’re dating.”

He meant it in a good way, but it made Tony hesitate, made him question it all again, as he did more often than he liked to admit. It must have shown in his eyes, because Steve continued. “Stopping you in the kitchen that night was one of the best choices I’ve ever made,” he said softly.

Tony’s heart melted at that, and some of the tension left his shoulders. “I’m glad you stopped me,” the brunet replied. “I don’t know if I would’ve had the courage to say something if you didn’t.”

“I’m surprised _I_ had the courage,” Steve said, chuckling softly. “I just…I couldn’t go another day loving you without you being mine.”

Tony felt a lump growing in his throat again, but this time he didn’t mind so much. He laughed breathlessly, Steve’s words warming him, smoothing away his worries, his doubts, if only for a moment. He would take this moment, and every other moment given. “If you’re still trying to make up for being late, you’ve done it,” Tony said, smiling up at him.

“Not yet,” Steve replied. He nodded towards the unopened box in Tony’s hands. “Here, take a look.”

Tony did as told. He opened up the little jewelry box, held it up a little higher to get a better look at it.

He felt the gasp catch in his throat as he caught sight of his gift. They were a matching pair of cufflinks in gold, pristine, polished, and beautiful. They weren’t any regular pair of cufflinks, though, because Tony had plenty of them, and Steve knew it. These were special, and instantly became Tony’s favorite pair.

They were engraved in a way that looked exactly like Steve’s shield, the carved ridges mimicking the appropriate amount of rings and the star in the center. They were insanely beautiful, and expensive he knew, (not that it mattered) and the implications…Steve wanted Tony wearing his symbol, his emblem. He wouldn’t do something like this, have a gift like this made unless he meant it, unless he really loved Tony, and wanted to stay with him another year, maybe much, much longer.

God, Tony had been a fool for ever believing otherwise.

“Oh…” was all he managed for the moment.

Steve’s arm wound around Tony’s back, held him gently. Steve’s body was warm against his, his cologne subtle and the aroma familiar, stunningly good. He had good taste, and the benefit of Tony’s deep pockets. But Tony would probably love whatever he wore, because it was _Steve_ wearing it. He felt small in the best way right now, felt young and stupidly in love, watching the way the light caught on his brand new cufflinks.

“These are yours,” Steve said against his ear, his free hand coming up to curl around Tony’s, holding the box. His touch was so soft, a gentle caress, his long fingers brushing against Tony’s in a way that made the scientist’s otherwise deft hands _shake_ a little. “I’m yours.”

“I love you,” Tony breathed. He turned, wrapped his arms around the soldier in a tight embrace. “God, I fucking love you. How are you even real?”

Steve laughed a little, pleased with the reaction. He hugged Tony back, closed his eyes and smiled. He’d been worried that he ruined their day, that the gift wouldn’t be enough to make up for it, but evidently it was. “I love you too,” he said. “I’m sorry for being late,” he said again.

“Don’t be,” Tony replied. “I mean—I was upset but, I’m not. Anymore. I… Jesus, Steve, I don’t know how I convinced you to fall in love with me,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I didn’t need any convincing,” Steve countered. “I didn’t have much choice in the matter either. You just have a way of getting under my skin.”

Tony laughed a little. “That makes two of us. Thank you for the present. I really, really love them. I got you something too, but it’s a lot less beautiful,” he said, drawing back a little. Tony closed up the jewelry box, set it down on the table.

“I’m sure I’ll love whatever it is,” Steve replied.

He wouldn’t admit it, but his eyes were already searching for his gift. He didn’t like to admit how much he actually enjoyed getting gifts, especially from Tony. He had so little when he was a kid, and nowadays, he had so much. It wasn’t the quantity, or the price of Tony’s gifts that excited him though, it was because Tony always thought so hard on his gifts, tried to give Steve something he would really enjoy. He knew Steve wasn’t a flashy guy, didn’t have a particularly expensive taste except when it came to a few things. He always knew just the right thing for Steve, and it made him feel…seen. It made him feel like Tony knew who he was, who _Steve Rogers_ was, and not many people did. Hell, that was part of why Steve had fallen for him so quick. Tony had a way of reading people, even if he was a little oblivious to their intentions.

Steve raised a brow as Tony led him by the hand towards the spacious living room.

“I had to do a bit of snooping around for this one,” Tony explained as they walked. “Lots of searching through boxes and decades’ worth of embarrassing shit.”

“Sounds like a hassle,” Steve agreed. He still wasn’t sure what Tony was getting at, and the curiosity slowly bubbled up in him.

Eventually, Tony led him to the sideboard on the back wall opposite of the couch. There was plenty of room there, and when Steve’s eyes fell on what he assumed was his gift, he started to understand.

“I found my mom’s record player,” Tony said finally, when they stopped walking.

He looked over at the object in question, his eyes dark, but warm, a little melancholy. Tony had obviously polished it a little; it was in good condition, but obviously original, looked different than the reproductions they sold in stores nowadays. There were a stack of records neatly placed next to the player too.

“And her massive collection. She loved music,” he added, voice low. “She used to turn this thing on in the afternoons, whenever she was at home. I…I don’t know. It’s something a little different, and it’s a part of me,” Tony said. His grasp on Steve’s hand tightened a little.

“I thought it shouldn’t be collecting dust anymore. I thought her records deserved to be danced to, at least one more time.”

Steve’s heart did a flip. He was at a loss for words for a second. Tony was sharing a part of his past, a connection with his parents, which he so rarely talked about, with Steve. He was offering a part of himself to Steve, in a way he wouldn’t for anyone else, trusted Steve with it.

Steve let out a little puff of air, overwhelmed by the amount of emotion that stirred in his chest. His smile grew, small and earnest.

“Did she have a favorite one?” he asked after a moment.

Tony nodded. “Yeah. Uh—this one.” He looked through the stack, pulled one out. Steve didn’t need to prompt him to turn it on.

“This one’s a little after your time,” Tony joked, volume low. “But she loved it. I’m pretty fond of it too.”

Steve got a glimpse of the words on the sleeve— _Paul Anka_. He thought he’d heard that name before, but couldn’t match it with a sound. He waited patiently as Tony worked with the record player.

Tony adjusted the needle, and a second later, music filled the air.

It was a lovely song, one Steve hadn’t heard before, but there was something soothing about it, familiar about it somehow, and it was definitely romantic, and he couldn’t stand being unable to hold Tony a second longer.

_Put your head on my shoulder, hold me in your arms, baby_

_Squeeze me oh so tight, show me that you love me too_

He took Tony’s hand again, a little hesitant, pulled him into the open space in the room. Tony followed instantly though, like a magnet drawn to him, slow and easy. Steve didn’t have to say anything else, didn’t have to ask for what he wanted. Tony settled into his arms like a puzzle piece sliding into place, a hand on Steve’s shoulder, the other in his palm, Steve’s arm wrapped around his waist. They swayed to the music, keeping time as easily as breathing.

It felt, in a word, heavenly, after the day Steve had, and after the trouble Tony had gone through. With increasingly busy schedules, and the world changing around them, moments like this were priceless, felt too good to be true, like a dream. It had become evident over the last year together, and especially tonight, that Steve _had_ chosen the right partner. Tony pressed his head against the soldier’s shoulder a few bars into their dance, and Steve leaned his against him in return, closed his eyes.

_Put your lips next to mine dear, won’t you kiss me once baby_

_Just a kiss goodnight, maybe you and I will fall in love_

Steve had _definitely_ fallen in love. He hoped he’d never fall out of love. He hoped he’d never stop feeling the way he did right now. They kept dancing, not a word between them, not a word _necessary_. This, being able to hold each other, being able to come together despite the arguing and the tension and all of the stress and danger of their lives, was plenty. Tony really did give the best gifts.

_Put your head on my shoulder, whisper in my ear, baby_

_Words I want to hear, baby_

_Put your head on my shoulder_

The scientist let out a content little sigh as the song drew to a close, though it was a little sad. He didn’t want to lose the magic of this moment, didn’t want to let it end.

Steve didn’t want it to end either, even as the next song started playing, and Tony tried to pull back out of his arms, to go turn it off.

“Keep dancing with me,” Steve said softly, holding on to him. “Please?”

Tony looked up at him, his eyes kind of far away in spirit, but Steve could see the focus growing in their dark tone, the affection. He took a second to respond, took in the sight of the man he loved, the man who’d been his for a whole _year_ , as crazy as it seemed.

“Always,” he replied.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Please leave a comment and tell me what you think!!


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